Monkey See, Monkey Do
by Arzosah
Summary: Vegeta had managed to suprise them all. As much as Frieza would have loved to write this off as a simple case of mimicry, he couldn't. The display spoke of keen intelect, and something far more dangerous. One-shot. Please read and review.


Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z.

**Monkey See, Monkey Do**

Childlike hands curled into claws. Slender, furry tail lashing out at some invisible opponent. I can barely believe what I am seeing. And yet I know deep down that my eyes do not deceive me, that what lies before them is real. That this Saiyan whelp of eight years is performing _my_ kata.

It's not perfect, of course, his body shape is completely wrong for the movements the routine requires of him. His limbs too short, his trunk too chubby with the baby-fat he won't loose until he hits puberty. But he doesn't let that stop him, like he doesn't let much of anything stop him. He just keeps going through the motions, his eyes closed tightly in concentration, adjusting the movements as needed.

But what's more amazing is not how close it is to the real kata; it's that I have never taught it to him. In fact I've never taught him anything, figuring the techniques he'd be learning from me were still too advanced for him. The skill level he is currently showing is making me seriously rethink that assumption. But I digress. Not only is he performing a kata without being taught, he is performing one I hardly use, one of my most difficult ones. I don't even remember performing it in his presence; I've only done it once since he came into my care…

I can't contain my gasp of shock as the pieces come together in my mind. He learned all this, from _one_ observation, three years ago? Has he been practicing it in secret until he got it as close to perfect as he could manage? And now he's showing it off, but why? Why now? What could have provoked this…?

It is then that I remember Zarbon and Dodoria standing at my side, and how I came across this scene. They'd been taunting the boy, I'm sure of it, telling him that he was weak, worthless, and couldn't learn anything to save his life, their usual jeers. And _this_ was how he responded. Not by attacking them and getting slapped down like he usually does, but by showing them what he was capable of learning.

"That's… one of your katas, isn't it… Lord Frieza…?" Dodoria gasped out, clearly unable to believe what he was seeing.

"And one of your more complicated ones, if I'm not mistaken," Zarbon breathed out his awe, somehow maintaining his composure in the face of this unusual occurrence.

Oh my dear Zarbon, that's not one of my more complicated katas, it is my _most_ complicated kata. And this Saiyan whelp has almost mastered it. But neither of you will admit it aloud, will you, for fear of giving Vegeta any sort of ground. _I_ might say it, though, when he is in need of praise and the two of you are in need of reprimanding, in need of being reminded of your place.

We're not the only ones watching this unfold; many others are gathered here as well, the young boy having succeeded in drawing quite a crowd. Among the audience is his ever present guard, Nappa, who the former King had vehemently insisted stay with his son. He stands off to the side, leaning against the wall, watching his charge with unrestrained pride. It doesn't take him long to notice my scrutiny, and his gaze meets mine.

That smug look on his face tells me all I need to know; they _had_ planned this, the two of them. It is all I can do to not let that fact get to me, make me loose face, for that would be yet another victory for the Saiyans this day. That simply will not do; I can never afford to show any amount of weakness in front of this volatile race, the opportunistic bastards. And so I break his gaze and continue to watch in silence, keeping my face neutral and expressionless.

A flurry of rapid punches, a quick flip, and a low sweep of his tail. So far not a single missed beat. I can't help but find myself impressed by the level of talent he's displaying. He will become a near god-like fighter one day, with skill enough to rival my own, if I do nothing to check him, to curb his development. I simply can't let him grow beyond my control.

"Well, I don't suppose any different could be expected," Zarbon said almost out of nowhere. "Saiyans would be excellent mimics, after all. You know what they say: monkey see, monkey do."

I shoot a subtle glare at him, one he completely fails to notice. Oh, you wish it was that simple, don't you. It would be such a tragedy to admit that you've been outdone by a Saiyan child of eight years. And it would be an even greater tragedy to admit that you are wrong in anything; no kata so complicated can be reproduced at this level by mere mimicry. Skill and stubbornness are essential as well. Both of which the young Vegeta apparently has in spades.

No, I don't think I will kill the boy; he's too valuable a resource to throw away so casually. But I simply cannot allow him to grow unchecked either, and there is the rub of it.

A few more punches, kicks, tail swipes, and flips, and Vegeta draws the kata to a close, not too surprisingly executing and holding the final stance perfectly. Murmurs of awe roll through his audience, and someone, probably Nappa, starts clapping. The applause somehow spreads through the rest of the crowd as the boy stands up straight, soaking up all the praise like a sponge.

But I keep myself perfectly still, even as Zarbon and Dodoria silently excuse themselves, obviously not wanting to loose anymore face than they already have. I suppose they deserve it at this point, and if the boy were to walk up to them and show them up any further, I would laugh at their misfortune.

But Vegeta doesn't seek them out; instead his glance falls on me, those dark, fiery eyes boldly meeting my stare. A moment of stillness, before my neutral expression breaks into a smirk. I nod to him, and he smirks right back, turning to walk proudly to his bodyguard. That little bit of praise cost me nothing to give, and besides, it gives the boy a taste of what is to come. Tomorrow I will train him myself.


End file.
